


Birth Control

by bitboozy



Series: Domesticated [17]
Category: Broadchurch
Genre: Baby Hardy Bastard Child of Broadchurch, Established Relationship, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 17:44:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20393641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitboozy/pseuds/bitboozy
Summary: Interludes like this are likely to become more and more frequent. But he doesn’t mind. He likes looking up from his desk to see her asleep on the couch. It brings him a sense of comfort.





	Birth Control

**Author's Note:**

> Back at it! Not that anyone probably minded the lull. 
> 
> Also, I promise this series is NOT going to become A Series About a Baby, so hopefully you won't be too put off by it if it's not your bag.
> 
> Let me know what you're thinking!

The mugshots on the wall are driving her mad. Ellie feels like she’s been staring at them relentlessly for days on end, and that’s perhaps because she has. She and Alec have gone through the same CCTV clips over and over, read and reread call logs until they were cross-eyed, and interviewed everyone who lived within a ten mile radius of the scene of the crime. They are still no closer to cracking this particular case.

She comes to work early today, long before anyone else. She’s been up since 5am with morning sickness anyway, so she figures if she’s going be up vomiting she may as well do it at work and feel at least somewhat productive. Her morning sickness was never this bad with previous pregnancies. She puts it all down to age, much as the thought vexes her. 

Alec arrives at CID around 8:30, having gotten all three children off to their respective schools on his own. Though he’d been dreading teaching Daisy how to drive, he can hardly wait now. He finds Ellie staring at the wall of evidence, where she almost always is, and hands her a cup of tea, holding onto one for himself.

“Kids get off all right?” She asks, without taking her eyes off the wall.

“No thanks to you, DS Miller.”

She’s unperturbed by him. “I can’t get this out of my _head_, I feel bloody useless at home.” 

He nods. That he can understand. “You realize that if you keep coming in early and someone else happens to do the same and catches you running off to the loo every five minutes we’re going to have a very awkward conversation ahead of us.”

“We’ve got an awkward conversation ahead of us anyhow.” She shrugs.

“Yes, but we’ll have to have it a good deal sooner than we planned if you keep this up.” He looks at her, observing every line on her face. “How much sleep did you get last night?” 

“Not much.” She takes a sip of her tea. “Between the case and the morning sickness…”

He frowns with concern. “You book that appointment yet?”

“I will.”

“Really should get in sooner rather than later.”

She turns to look at him finally, cross. “For god’s sake, will you leave me be?”

He smirks at her, unoffended. “You’re cranky this morning.” 

She sighs heavily and turns back to the wall.

“You’re nearly six weeks now, El. We need to see the doctor.”

“I know,” she replies, softer now. 

“Quit puttin’ it off.”

He turns and walks away, into his office, leaving her staring at the wall.

*

He stays holed up in his office most of the morning while she and Harford revisit the crime scene, searching in vein for anything they could have possibly missed the first two times. Around lunchtime, they grab some takeaway and eat it in Ellie’s car. 

Katie looks over at Ellie, who is eating like she’s been starved for days. “Thought you hated tuna.”

“I don’t,” Ellie replies defensively.

“You hate it so much you don’t even let _me _eat it in your presence,” Katie insists.

“Well.” Ellie looks down at her sandwich. “Yes. Sudden cravings, you know?”

“…No.”

Ellie starts the car. “Well. They happen.”

Back at CID, she hands the younger detective a stack of paperwork and then disappears into Alec’s office, closing the door behind her.

He looks up from his work, peering at her over the rims of his glasses. “Anythin’ illuminating?”

She collapses onto his couch. “Not besides bloody Katie giving me a hard time over my choice of sandwich.” 

Alec chooses not to probe that one any further. He looks back down at his work. Ellie lies down on the couch, closing her eyes. It’s a moment before Alec looks up again and notices.

“All right?”

She yawns. “Just need a bit of a lie down, I think.” She kicks off her shoes and curls up. “Mind if I…?”

He smiles a bit at the sight of her. “Go right ahead.”

He has to keep reminding himself, just as he suspects she’ll have to keep reminding _her _self, that her energy level is not going to be at its peak for the next eight months. Interludes like this are likely to become more and more frequent. But he doesn’t mind. He likes looking up from his desk to see her asleep on the couch. It brings him a sense of comfort. 

He lets her sleep for thirty minutes, then goes to sit on the edge of the couch next to her. “El.” He rubs her back gently. “We’ve got to go brief Jenkinson in a bit.”

She very reluctantly sits up, rubbing her eyes like an exhausted child. She leans against his shoulder, and he slips his arm around her. They both lean back on the couch, he with his feet propped up on the table in front of it, and her with her feet tucked underneath her. She yawns.

“I made the appointment,” he tells her, squeezing her shoulder.

He fully expects her to protest, to chastise him, but she doesn’t. “All right. When?”

“This afternoon.”

At this, she pulls back and looks at him. “This afternoon?!”

“Dr. Sinclair had a last minute cancellation,” Alec replies easily. “We’re to be there at four.”

She sighs. “Suppose now I have to prepare myself for Dr. Sinclair’s unabashed _judgment_.” He frowns at her, confused. “About our…you know. Situation. Baby Hardy, Bastard Child of Broadchurch.”

He doesn’t know whether to laugh or be insulted. “Could give a toss what he thinks about it.” Then he does laugh. “Baby Hardy, Bastard Child of Broadchurch is brilliant though. We’ll have to get that stitched on a pillow.”

“Sinclair’s never liked me, by the way,” Ellie notes. “_Adored _Joe, mind you, thought he was father of the bloody year. But when there’s only one gynecologist in town, I suppose you’ve not much choice.” 

“Any choice, actually,” Alec replies unhelpfully. “Unless you want to find a doctor outside of town. Which we could do, if it’ll make you feel better.”

“No. Takes too much time. I can handle Sinclair.”

*

“Ellie Miller,” Dr. Sinclair announces, as he walks into the examination room, staring at her chart. “Been too long.” Though it’s clear he doesn’t mean it.

“Hasn’t it just,” Ellie replies through gritted teeth.

“Now, what are we looking at – “ Sinclair looks up and sees Alec sitting in a chair beside Ellie, who is sitting on the edge of the examination table. “DI Hardy.” Sinclair blinks at him a few times. “This is most unusual.”

Ellie sighs. She’s already in a bad mood. “Surely you’ve heard, Doctor. In such a town as this.”

“I pay very little attention to gossip these days. I’ve gotten too ruddy old for it.”

She sighs again. “Alec is my – um.” Ellie looks at Alec. They’ve never really figured out what to call themselves. “He’s my…”

“Partner,” Alec says. But that’s not particularly helpful.

“Well, yes, but that doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

Ellie sighs yet again, and Alec thinks she sounds like Daisy whenever he’s bugging her. “Significant other then. He’s my, you know, we’re together.”

Alec shrugs dismissively. He couldn’t have said it any better, frankly. 

“Do you usually accompany your significant others on their gynecological visits, Mr. Hardy?”

Every question that comes out of Dr. Sinclair’s mouth seems pointed and irritates Ellie so much she can feel it in her whole body. “Oh, for god’s sake, would you put two and two together already? I’m _pregnant_.”

Sinclair’s eyes widen and he nods slowly. “I _see_.” He looks down at his chart, presumably reminding himself of her age. “You’re sure?”

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, I’m bloody sure. Five tests and two missed periods sure.”

He nods slowly again. This seems to be his thing. “And Mr. Hardy is the, um – “

“Father,” Alec answers. “Yes.” It gives both him and Ellie a bit of a thrill to hear it said out loud.

Sinclair looks from one to the other, taking his time. “I see. Unplanned, I take it.”

There’s that heavy sigh of Ellie’s again. “Does it _matter_?”

“I suppose not.” He’s writing things down on her chart, and Ellie cannot begin to imagine what. “Right, then, we have quite a few tests to run so we’d better get started and then we can talk about your options.”

Both Alec and Ellie frown. “Options?”

“Next steps, rather.”

Alec has officially decided he does not like the man much either.

He sits dutifully by her for the next thirty minutes or so as she gets poked and prodded, swabbed and stuck with needles. She’s a pro by now and doesn’t even flinch. Fortunately, the nurse is much nicer than Dr. Sinclair and Ellie is in a much better mood as a result. She chatters away with her, and Alec just sits there, his gaze wandering throughout the room, carefully observing all of the very informative signs and posters. It _has _been over sixteen years for him, after all. And he’d not like to admit how inconsistent he was about accompanying Tess to her appointments.

Eventually, Dr. Sinclair comes back in and sets up Ellie in stirrups to perform the routine pap smear and cervical cultures. This Alec doesn’t remember ever witnessing before, and he makes a mental note to apologize to Tess at some point. The pap smear appears _wildly _unpleasant to him, and he holds onto Ellie’s hand. She is more or less unbothered, having had far too many of these in her life but she winces enough that he feels like he’s in pain. He squeezes her hand, then kisses the back of it.

“Right, then.” Dr. Sinclair hands the samples off to the nurse, who swiftly exits, then helps Ellie extricate herself from the stirrups so she can lie normally. She shifts up a bit. “Reckon you have an idea of how far along you are.”

Ellie nods. “Best guess about six weeks.”

He looks at her chart again. “Ah. Right around the time we switched your birth control.”

She glares at him so hard Alec almost laughs. “Yeah, thanks for that, by the way.”

Sinclair is not insulted, instead he throws it back to her. “Ought to have been more careful those days, oughtn’t you?” 

“Yes, well.” Ellie shrugs and suddenly there’s a glint in her eyes, and Alec knows her well enough to know that she’s about to passive-aggressively terrorize this doctor as cleverly as she can. “This one can’t keep his hands off me, so it was pretty impossible, I’d say.”

Dr. Sinclair raises an eyebrow. Alec looks down so his smile can’t be detected.

“I mean, bloody hell, what’s a girl to do? He’s got that Scottish brogue and those _eyes_, not to mention those _hands_. I tell you, Doctor, the things this man can do with his hands, with his _fingers_, I can’t rightly be expected to resist him.”

Sinclair folds his arms across his chest and appears stone-faced, so Alec is duly surprised when his response is, “_Fingers _don’t get you pregnant, Eleanor."

Ellie’s eyes go impossibly wide, for what he suspects are a _number _of reasons, and Alec realizes then that she must have known Dr. Sinclair her entire life. He’s never heard _anyone _call her Eleanor, not even her father. He’d honestly forgotten that her given name must not have been Ellie.

Ellie is properly chastised, like a child, and though Alec so badly wants to laugh he knows he’d never hear the end of it if he did.

“Right. Let’s go on and do an ultrasound, then, make sure you’re right and get you a proper due date.”

Alec sits up straight, a bit tense. He hadn’t been expecting this, somehow. An ultrasound already. A due date.

“You can go on and change back into your street clothes, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Sinclair slips out the door. Ellie senses the change in Alec’s demeanor and looks over at him.

“All right?” She asks quietly, leaning toward him.

“Yeah. Yes,” he replies. “You?”

“Fine.” She searches his eyes. “If it’s a bit much, you can…” She gestures vaguely toward the door.

“Are you bloody joking?” He asks her incredulously. “Not gonna leave _now_. This is the best part." 

She smiles, hopping up off the table. Alec hands her her clothes. “Ta.”

He watches as she changes her clothes. It’s not quite so sexy in a doctor’s office to watch her undress and redress, but it is somehow moving. Given the context. She’s not far enough along that you could tell by looking at her, even when stark naked, but her body is even more fascinating to him now. The things it can do, the ways it can change. He finds it endlessly impressive.

She’s fastening her trousers when he feels the need to get her attention.

“Hey, El.”

She doesn’t look at him.

“You really are magic, you know that?”

She looks up at him now, a bit startled. “What?”

He stands and goes to her, pulling her to him. His arms go around her and he clasps his hands at the small of her back. “You’re magic." 

Her confusion melts into a soft smile. “_Soppy_.”

He kisses her. “Much more where that comes from, I’m afraid. Goes with the territory. You havin’ my kid and all.”

Ellie grins a bit. “So what you’re saying is you’re going to be a soppy, mushy mess for the next eight months, and I’ll just be expected to put up with it?”

“Right you are.” He kisses her again.

“It won’t _just _be Soppy Hardy, will it?” Her arms slink around his neck. “Other Hardys can still come out and play from time to time, yeah? There’s quite a few I would miss.”

“Oh yeah?” He kisses her jaw. “Name one.”

“Well, Stubborn Hardy, for one. Maddening, Impossible Hardy.”

“Mm-hmm.” His lips move from her jaw to just underneath her earlobe.

“Then of course there’s _Lusty _Hardy, him I’d miss very much.” He nips at her earlobe. “Might even miss Cranky Hardy and Boss Hardy.”

“They’ll all be around,” he replies, lips on her neck.

A knock at the door jolts them back to reality. “All right, Ellie?”

They break apart. “All right!”

Dr. Sinclair enters the room again. “Go on then, have another lie down.”

Ellie gets back up on the examination table and lies back. Alec stands by the table a bit anxiously.

“Lift your shirt please.”

She does, and Sinclair applies the gel. Ellie shivers at the coldness of it, and Alec instinctively reaches for her hand as the doctor begins to run the transducer over her abdomen. Their eyes are glued to the screen, ears tuned in listening for a heartbeat. He holds onto her hand even tighter.

“All right, here we are.” Dr. Sinclair points to the screen, and suddenly the heartbeat is heard.

Ellie’s breath catches in her throat and she looks at Alec, who has tears in his eyes.

“Looking good…” Dr. Sinclair says, his eyes on the screen as he moves the transducer around. “Not seeing any abnormalities. Your best guess on gestational date looks about right to me, but we’ll know more once the rest of your tests comes back.”

Dr. Sinclair is used to this, so he barely clocks the fact that both Alec and Ellie are crying now. Alec leans down and kisses her temple, her forehead, her cheek. “How on earth did we do this?” 

Sinclair turns to look at them now. “…Don’t actually need me to answer that, do you?”

But they’re both ignoring him. “It’s really there, isn’t it?” Ellie says, in awe. “It’s…there’s…_oh_.”

Alec and Sinclair both look at her, a bit puzzled.

“There was a part of me that thought…that worried that maybe…” She chokes back tears. He leans his forehead to hers and squeezes her hand tighter.

Dr. Sinclair nods. “You were worried the pregnancy wasn’t actually viable.”

Alec looks up. The thought had not even _occurred _to him. The idea sends a cold chill down his spine, and the notion that Ellie had been carrying that thought around with her for over a week without sharing it with him breaks his whole heart.

“That’s why you didn’t want to make the appointment, isn’t it,” Alec says quietly.

She nods, fairly imperceptibly.

“Oh, El.” 

“There’s really a baby,” she says, staring at the screen, breathing unevenly. “There’s a…” She looks at Alec. “That’s really our baby.”

“Yeah, love.” He kisses her brow.

“We did that.”

Alec had been expecting that, if either of them, _he’d _be the one in awe, dripping in emotion, and she’d be calm and composed. Turns out they're both a mess. 

“Oops,” he says through tears, and they both laugh.

She turns to look straight at him, grinning now. He kisses her.

“We’re insane,” she says, and he grins back.

“Yeah, love." 

“All right, then,” Dr. Sinclair speaks up. “Everything looks in order here for now. We’ll get you a few copies of the ultrasound image.” He gets up and hands Ellie a towel to clean the gel off. “Now, Ellie, I know you know the score, but are there any questions I can answer for you at the moment?”

Ellie wipes herself off and sits up a bit. “Uh. Yes, actually. I, um. How much of a high-risk pregnancy would you consider this?”

Dr. Sinclair sits down in the chair beside them and claps his hands together. “Well. You are forty-three, so it’s certainly a _slight _concern but not a large one. Women your age have healthy babies every day.” 

Ellie is glad to hear it, though she thinks the phrase _women your age _is the worst thing she’s ever heard uttered in her life.

She looks at Alec, then back at Sinclair. “And the, uh…the miscarriage I had after Tom, is that a…”

“A history of miscarriage is a slight cause for concern, again, but not a large one. It was just the one, and a full decade ago,” the doctor answers.

_Just the one _also rubs Ellie the wrong way, because just the one is more than enough.

To everyone’s surprise, Sinclair gives her a reassuring smile. “At the moment we’ve every reason to believe you’ll have a healthy child eight months from now.”

Alec squeezes her arm. Ellie exhales with relief. 

“Mr. Hardy, do _you _have any questions before I see you both off?”

Alec shifts his weight a bit, holding onto Ellie’s hand. “Ellie’s been experiencing some pretty brutal morning sickness. Is that normal? Is there something we can do?”

Ellie smiles at him and touches his cheek, moved that he thought to ask.

Dr. Sinclair leans forward, but appears fairly unconcerned. “Depends how brutal. Worse than before?” He turns to Ellie.

“Bit worse, yeah,” she admits.

“Well, keep an eye out for anything in extremity – severe vomiting, headaches, fatigue, fever, rapid heart rate, and keep me in the loop,” he answers. “Stick to small meals, drink fluids before or after but not _during _meals if you can. And get all the rest you can.”

“Right.” Alec nods, shifting a bit again. “Is there – you recommend waiting how long, before telling people?”

“Well,” Dr. Sinclair begins. “We typically recommend waiting about ten to twelve weeks, until the end of the first trimester. But you should certainly feel free to tell your children, or those closest to you.”

“Right, okay.”

The doctor stands. “We’ll set you up with your prenatal vitamins and supplements out at the desk, and we’ll see you in about a month.”

*

They go straight home after leaving the appointment, as neither of them is in any mood to think about work after what they’ve just experienced. Ellie’s dad still has Fred, Tom is at football practice, and Daisy is at an after school study group.

Alec makes them both a cup of tea, and then they collapse together on the couch, overwhelmed by the emotional rollercoaster of the afternoon. Ellie props her feet up on Alec’s lap, and they sit in the quiet for awhile, lost in their own thoughts. Finally he looks at her, and starts rubbing her feet absently.

“All right?” He asks her.

She remembers where she is and smiles at him. “Oh yes.”

“Tired?”

“No,” she replies happily. “Quite energized actually.”

“Me too.” He rests a hand on her leg, the other hand massaging one of her feet.

“Bit restless as it happens.”

He looks at her inquisitively. She rubs one foot against his crotch. His eyes widen a bit. “Oh, I see.”

She grins seductively, raising her eyebrows, continuing her ministrations with her foot. He groans. “Mmm….kids’ll be home soon.”

She gets the other foot involved now, and he bucks his hips involuntarily, elicits a noise that is quite unintelligible.

“Can’t be held responsible for my urges, you know,” she says. “My hormones have a life of their own at the moment, don’t they.”

“_Don’t _they,” he growls

He’s good and hard already and he knows she knows it. She unbuttons her blouse, slowly, taking note of the way he’s practically drooling. Once unbuttoned, she pushes the sides away and reveals her breasts that are now growing a bit too large for her bra’s current cup size, and a stomach that is still a bit slick from the ultrasound gel. Between the movements of her feet against his now very tight trousers and the sight of her exposed before him, it quickly becomes too much and he jumps up, all but throwing himself on top of her.

“That’s more like it,” she says, contentedly.

He kisses her and kisses her and kisses her. She unconsciously parts her legs and he rubs up against her.

She takes a breath. “Best get upstairs before – “ He slips a hand into her trousers. “Before you go and do a thing like _that_." 

“Fine,” he groans, peeling himself off her and standing up. He holds a hand out to her, and pulls her off the couch. “Your fault. You get me all riled up and then say ‘best get upstairs, Alec’ just as I’m about to…" 

She throws her arms around his neck and kisses him. “Best get upstairs, Alec,” she says again. “Or the kids will come home to find me riding you into oblivion right here on the carpet.”

He groans again. “_Ellie_…” He grabs her hand and leads her to the stairs. “Such dirty talk from the mother of my child.”

She passes him and starts running up the stairs. “More where that came from!”

He runs up after her.

***


End file.
